Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@hutch (Stephen Hutchison) Subject: 'Raelf at Dragons' Inn Message-ID: <1992Jul8.063130.28108@intelhf.hf.intel.com> Date: Wed, 8 Jul 92 06:31:30 GMT [ADMIN] This should have come out earlier, but our site has been isolated from the net for the last five days. I hope time hasn't passed too far. Characters: 'Raelf, anyone in the Inn Time is the morning after the fight. Sometime. 'Raelf has just repaired ...sage's broken nose and his own broken arm. "This is the Dragon's Inn" said ...sage pointing down, "and you can reach me by placing a message in the box I have left with Littlefair, the barkeep, at anytime." He described several interesting folk, hurriedly, then was shown the old human custom of a handclasp for goodbye. "I have to seek out someone, but hopefully we will meet again, and share a drink or two and a tale or three as well. Thankyou very much for the ride." 'Raelf looked around, then down at the Inn and then jumped down off the roof onto some stacked barrels, then down to the ground. "Interesting architecture here" he thought as he viewed the myriad corners. "Definitely Frank Lloyd Wright ..NOT!" and sauntered, board in hand, inside. "Wonder what version of common tongue they use here." The bar was empty this early in the morning. The tables were not. At least three tables were occupied. A dark-eyed man sat near the smoldering fireplace, spoke briefly to a shadowy-cloaked man who was staggering to the stairs along one wall. Somehow, the layout of partial walls, the central bar, and the tables conspired to provide at least eighteen different corners, and there seemed to be two other fireplaces farther in the back. A bard was sleepily plinking out a tune at one of the tables. A young straw-haired wench moved from table to table, wiping crumbs up, and gathering dishes. 'Raelf approached her, waiting until she seemed free. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you speak english?" Not bloody likely, but... "dana fey turi?" she replied. She stared, astonished, at the tallish blonde man in the strange costume. Black, with bright trim, colored in the colors of the sunrise, patterned like the fur on an animal and the scales on a fish. Carrying a strange shield under one arm. "Sprechen sie Orcksh?" "dana na fey tur." She frowned, distaste evident. Why would he talk to her in that language - not even the fen-goblins spoke that tongue inside of town. "kannez dui doEldilai?" "danae doNoi?" She said, faltering. He almost made sense, but it was very old-fashioned elvish. She tried to explain, in the local dialect of elvish, "Nadn de Leoric." "AH! Del Lorique Commontongue?" 'Raelf smiled in recognition. "You Commontalk be Del Lorique cant. Gotcha can do from there. Got room?" "Yes, we have a room. Wait til first bell, for father to come down." "Bell? No klanged got bell?" 'Raelf frowned. This is NOT Del Lorique commontongue. Close, though. "Wait. First bell." She said, speaking louder and slower. "Da ja, wait knapf bell one. Wait in outside." 'Raelf turned to the door, walked out into the sun. The plaza glittered in the sun. "Stainless steel. Way cool, wonder how that got there." He wandered, puzzled, looking at the wisps of fog evaporating with unnatural speed. Humans, and a few crossbreeds, wandered the streets, some spattered with blood from injuries, some just dazed. There was debris from the battles of the night - smoking, burned out buildings, shattered windows, torn up pavements where the stones had been pried out to throw at random targets. "I wonder if they had a King analog - this looks too familiar." He laid his board out flat in the air. <> The board hovered flat, runes sputtering. 'Raelf stared, horrified, at the board. Half the runes glowed with power. Half were dead black, burned out. The manastorm had gotten past his shields. Or something had. "Oh most heinous bummer." 'Raelf said in a toneless voice. "My poor baby." He stroked the rune-line, gently, feeling for the imperfection he knew had to be there. There it was. Just past the definition of levitation and threespace motivation. The paracosmos rune, cracked through. Dead. And the half of the board which relied on that defining rune, also dead. "Hellation and damnfire," he said in disgust. "I hope this place has a good magic shop. I'd hate to have to use the winnie to get back. Especially since I'm not sure it can make that steep grade over Ravenloft. Oh. Bloody. Merde. I went through RAVENLOFT - no wonder the rune blew." <> he said, catching the board as it sagged from the air. "Sheer off, kupperwang!" he growled at the fellow lurking in the shadows, greed glinting off his hastily averted eye. 'Raelf maintained the sullen, keep-away aura until he reached the Plaza of Glittering Steel. The sun was already making it too hot to stand on in bare feet, and he was thankful for the protection of his voidsuit. He walked, again, into the dark interior. A broad-shouldered man stood by the fireplace, directing the young mopboy in the finer art of how to clean a firepit. "You be LittleFair, nu das?" 'Raelf asked. "Yes. You were here before, wantin' a room?" The burly innkeeper gave him the up-down stare, evaluating the oddly dressed man. Not threatening. Heck of a lot less menacing looking than most of his customers. Clearly a fighter, judging by the muscle, but a strange one - no calluses visible on his hands or feet, not even the ones you'd expect from a handfighter. "Yes. For while I fixing board. Also need teacher of speakings." "That would be three copper wheels for common room. Per day." "Not have wheels. Have broken board. Oh, I saw now. You want prepay, cash or visa, no american express." 'Raelf grinned, fumbling in the pocket of his belt. He pulled a pouch out. "Tell me when this used all up." He handed a pearl, about three inches across, and jet-black in color, to Littlefair. Who grunted. "Adventurer, hunh. Well, don't fight here and we'll get on fine." Littlefair walked over to the desk under the stairs, and jotted something in a book under the counter. He pointed to the top of the stair. "Up there, two doors on left, upper common room. Keep track of your own duffel. Breakfast at first bell, supper at third bell, anything more than three ales comes off your tab. I'll let you know when you use half the value of the pearl." "Thanks, dude. Daj kut." The blond man clomped up the stair, and disappeared into the upper commons. After about a half hour, he came down again, voidsuit replaced by black mid-thigh pants with threads of strange colors in runes down the length of them, and a loose open front tunic, hip length, patterned in changing flows of trees, birds, fiery sunset and crashing wave. He was barefoot, and the board was missing. He walked to the message board, and stuck up a strange yellow parchment. WANTED: LANGUAGE TUTOR, see Robin LittleFair He turned, facing the room, and raised his voice. "Excuse my ask. Are any here can be guide me to mage makes gold from out of lead, or to star witch?" ADMIN: 'Raelf is looking for someone to teach him the local dialect of Common, and for an alchemist and/or an astrologer. Send me email at hutch@hutch.intel.com (sorry, my local newsreader doesn't have the good grace to put the domain on it.)